Sunday at Aunt Amy's
by alynwa
Summary: Napoleon and Illya spend some time with Amy. Originally written for the Picfic Tuesday Challenge on LJ.


"Aunt Amy, may I ask you something?"

"My dear Illya, you may ask me anything you like. What do you want to know?"

Napoleon and Illya were enjoying a few weeks out of the field that, for once, had not been precipitated by either one of them being seriously injured. There had been a recent influx of probationary Section II and III agents and the Old Man wanted his CEA and Number One, Section III to personally oversee their orientation and be available for supervision and correction. Illya was working closely with Research and Development to improve some of the surveillance equipment used by the agents in the field, especially the female agents who had no use for cufflinks or tie tacks. It was a pleasant change of pace to be able to work a five day week, even if some of the days were long.

One of the perks of having weekends off was spending quality time with Napoleon's Aunt Amy. He loved her to distraction and was very happy that she had learned to love his partner and best friend as if he were truly family. For his part, Illya, who had no family, adored the sweet older woman who was so free with her hugs and kisses. The two men had taken her out for Sunday brunch and were now relaxing in her penthouse on the Upper East Side.

"This painting, I've never seen anything quite like it. Did you paint it?"

Aunt Amy's laugh tinkled like crystal and made her seem years younger, much to the Russian's amusement. "No, dear boy, I can't draw a straight line with a ruler. That was a gift from my beloved Albert. We were in Paris in 1939 and in front of the Moulin Rouge one day was an artist selling his work. For some reason, this one caught my eye and I couldn't get it out of my mind. I asked my husband to buy it for me. It was already framed so he said he didn't want to carry it on our walk. He made a deal with me that if the painting were still there when we returned and I still wanted it, he would buy it for me." She giggled again. "I think we walked every street in Paris before returning. I think he was hoping that the young man would either have sold the artwork or packed up and left, but he was still there and so was the painting. So, here it is."

Napoleon was sitting on the settee sipping a cup of Earl Gray and watching his two favorite people on the planet discussing the painting that hung in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. "Aunt Amy always said that one is her favorite."

She went to sit next to him. "It is. It wasn't much longer after that that the world plummeted back into war. This picture represents innocence and peaceful times to me. The children out for a walk with their father and the family dog on the Place de la Concorde. In my mind, it's a beautiful Sunday afternoon and the family had gone to church earlier and the mother is home preparing dinner while her loving husband keeps the children occupied and out of her hair so she can do so in peace. It's a simpler time with no war or threat of war." She looked down at her hand and twisted the wedding band she still wore. "Albert used to say, when I would feel sad about not having had children, that those little girls in the picture were our children. He never let me feel sorry for myself and then, dearest Napoleon, when you were born, I had someone to shower all my maternal affections upon. And you repaid me by bringing me another nephew to love."

Illya bowed slightly in her direction. "You honor me. I…I love you, too."

Napoleon leaned over to kiss her cheek. "You are a miracle worker, Auntie. Illya doesn't say that to anyone." He looked at his watch and remarked, "Well, it's after four and I have some paperwork I need to take care of before Ed Sullivan, so I'm heading home. Are you staying, Illya?"

"You're more than welcome, Illya."

The Russian took Aunt Amy's small hand into his larger ones and tenderly kissed her cheek. "Thank you, but no, I will leave also. Thank you for going to brunch with us and allowing us to keep you company."

Aunt Amy walked arm in arm with the men to her front door. "Illya, why don't you ring for the elevator, I have something to discuss quickly with Napoleon."

"Of course. Goodbye."

A few minutes later, Napoleon rejoined his partner and they stepped into the elevator. Napoleon seemed deep in thought. After a few seconds Illya asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Not really. Aunt Amy wants you to have that painting after she's…gone."

"_Chyort, _this is the second time she has told you she wants me to have something of hers.* Is there something going on we should know about?"

Napoleon rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Not really. I'm the executor of her estate and she trusts that I will just obey her wishes so that she doesn't have to amend her will. She's as healthy as a horse; I asked her."

"I am glad. But you do not have to give me her things; that is not why I commented on the painting and the tea set."

"I know that. I will give them to you because that is her wish."

"Fine, but not for a very long, long time."

"From your lips, Tovarisch, from your lips."

*ref. "The Good Stuff"


End file.
